


Doing it Right

by mistyzeo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Pre-Series, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:59:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twitter consensus: Dean walking on Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doing it Right

Sam should have heard him coming. Dean wasn’t supposed to be home until five thirty, and here it was a quarter to four and Dean was standing in the doorway, smirking at him. Sam had barely managed to yank his boxers back into place, but his jeans were undone, his belt was open, and his hard-on was anything but subtle.

“What?” Dean asked, his mouth twitching like he wanted to be laughing his ass off right now. Jerk.

“I was just—“ Sam said, “I was—“

“Jerkin’ off?” Dean asked, stepping into the room and dropping his keys on the chair. “Spankin’ it? Choking—“

“Dean, shut _up_!” Sam said, going red. His fingers twitched, his erection throbbed, and he shuffled his feet awkwardly against the bed. “Door was closed for a reason.”

Dean did laugh that time, shaking his head. “Come on, dude,” he said, “chill out. Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“What?” Sam squeaked.

“I changed your diapers,” Dean said, and sat down on his bed to take off his boots. Sam pulled his knees up to his chest, wincing at the pressure it put on his dick, and wrapped his arms around them to shield himself. “I taught you to piss on the side of the highway.” He tossed one boot and then the other onto the floor at the end of the bed, where they landed with identical thumps. “Jeez, it’s your dick, not the holy grail.”

“Shut up,” Sam said again, feeling foolish. Dean was just teasing him, like always. There wasn’t any way around it. He relaxed a little, uncurled, and Dean winked at him. Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to go away?”

“Oh,” Dean said, like he hadn’t thought of that, “no, man, I’m wiped from this weekend.” Another hunt, another nameless threat, another one Sam had been allowed to miss on the grounds of an English paper due Monday. “I think they thought I was hungover, so they let me out early.” He slumped back onto his bed and closed his eyes. “Don’t mind me.”

Sam gaped at him for a minute, but Dean wasn’t moving. He was just lying there, hands laced on his belly, breathing slowly, his face relaxed. He wasn’t leaving. Sam waited another minute, considering going into the bathroom to finish himself off, but finally decided— no, god damn it, he was here first, and if Dean wanted to sleep through him jerking off— well it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done it before.

Stretching his legs out again slowly, quietly, Sam slid his hand back into his boxers. His cock was still hard, humid and thick under his palm, and it jumped when Sam touched it. He slid his thumb over the sensitive, sticky head, rubbing in a circle that had him shaking with the effort of keeping quiet, and curled his fingers around his dick. He stuck his other hand in his mouth, breathing out tremulously around it, and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t take much, he’d been pretty close already and it all came rushing back as he stroked himself. Even with Dean there—

Shit, Dean. This was fucked up. Sam opened his eyes and risked a glance at Dean. Dean was looking back.

“Dude,” Sam said, indignant, stilling his hand inside his pants but unable to keep from squeezing himself. “What.”

“I’m just making sure you’re doing it right,” Dean said, shrugging, like that was totally normal.

“I’m doing it right,” Sam said. “I promise.”

Dean shrugged again and wet his lips. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t close his eyes again.

Sam frowned at him, confused and irritated and feeling hot all over, and then said, “Fine, if you don’t believe me then I’ll show you.” _What? Really?_

Dean snorted. “Do whatever you want,” he said.

Annoyance flared in Sam’s stomach, and he pushed down his boxers. Dean was making it seem like _he_ was the weird one, when _Dean_ was the one— fuck it. If he wanted a show, he’d get a show.

Dean just smirked at him as Sam wriggled his jeans and shorts down his ass and freed his dick. It slapped heavily against his stomach, flushed and full, and Sam smoothed his hand over it, reached between his legs to cup his balls, and blew out a breath. Christ it felt good. He hadn’t jerked off in days— with Dean and Dad in danger it felt wrong, like Sam should be with them, helping them, not wasting his time masturbating. When Dean and Dad got home safe, it was all fine again. He thought he’d have privacy this afternoon, and the anticipation had been building in his gut since lunch. He’d gotten home from school and gotten right to it, had been a few minutes from the end when Dean had walked in. Damn him.

Sam took himself in hand again, thighs trembling, and started to stroke himself slowly, tightly, suddenly wanting to prove to Dean that he _was_ doing it right. He knew what he liked. He hadn’t been with as many girls as Dean had— okay, one, and she let him touch her tits but nothing else— but he’d figured out his own body. His cock slipped easily through his fist, slick with pre-come and the lube he’d found not-stealthily hidden under Dean’s bed. It was so much better like this than with lotion— smooth and slippery and warm, and it didn’t dry out or rub in, it just stayed wet. His pubes were sticky with it, fingers still damp, and his dick was so hard.

He looked up again, and almost stopped. Dean was still watching him, the clinical aloofness gone from his face and replaced with something unidentifiable. Sam had seen Dean look like that the first time Dad let him drive the Impala, or the first time he’d brought a girl home and Dad hadn’t cared. Want. And triumph. The realization of it slid down Sam’s spine in a warm, shivery pulse, and he bucked up into his hand, pushing his dick through the circle of his fist. He jerked himself faster, harder, speeding up as he watched Dean watch him. He slid his other hand down from where it rested on his stomach to touch his balls again, rolling them carefully between his fingers and letting the pleasure rise. His breath was coming fast and hard, almost panting, and he could feel the sweat prickling at his temples and under his arms. He had to get off— soon. Now. He wanted it now.

Dean let out a shaky breath, drawing Sam’s attention to his mouth, and then he licked his lips again. Instantly Sam could imagine that his hand was a mouth, sweet and hot and sucking him down, and a grunt of pleasure escaped him. Dean’s gaze shifted from his dick to his face, and now he was looking into Sam’s eyes with the same expression of desire written plain. Sam let out another noise, uncontrollable, and came all over his stomach, fucking his fist and staring at his brother.

He closed his eyes as he rode it out, shaking and moaning and coming, pulse after pulse, and then it was over. He relaxed back into his pillows and dragged open his eyes, wiped his hand on his belly.

“Yeah, I think you’re doing right,” Dean said, sounding weird and choked. Sam grinned. He knew that.


End file.
